


the goddess lives among the mountain goats

by tangerinabina_de_archanea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Getting Together, Mild Language, are we even tagging for that anymore. i feel like everyone already knows, but also like. not full crack, spoilers about seteth and flayn's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinabina_de_archanea/pseuds/tangerinabina_de_archanea
Summary: “Hello, Professor,” he greeted her with that tight-lipped nod that he was so good at. “I am sure that you understand why I’m here.”“I do,” she replied, giving him a nod of her own. “I’m not coming back.”“But the people of Fódlan need you. Your students-”“My goats need me,” she interrupted. “Have you met my goats?”After finding out that she's the vessel for the goddess, Byleth nopes out of Garreg Mach and heads to the mountains to live a quiet life with six goats.Rhea bullies Seteth into trying to bring Byleth back.Comedy, drama, and maybe even... love 😳 ensues.Based off of an au by @katsucii on twitter!
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 22
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to Kat for not only creating this au but letting me post this 🥺💖 UR THE BEST
> 
> also, this is written in a slightly unconventional style (at least, different from my usual style) bc of the fact that it is crack FHIKLDSJF

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single goddess in possession of six fine goats, must be in want of a mountaintop to live on. Byleth Eisner, being in this predicament, thus took her leave of Garreg Mach Monastery and sought out an appropriate mountain range.

This caused Archbishop Rhea great distress, to say the least. This being the case, Rhea immediately sent out her trusted right hand man Seteth to corral the unruly goddess reborn back into the monastery’s pen. He was accompanied by Flayn, his sister who was totally not his daughter, nope, not at all, why would you say that, Flayn was obviously 17 and he was  _ obviously  _ only 26 and Not A Day Older, so how could they even be father and daughter? It was impossible. The fact that Byleth used to address him as “DILF supreme” was only a jest. A JEST.

The author of this tale apologizes for the digression.

Allow me to repeat myself. This caused Archbishop Rhea great distress, to say the least. This being the case, she immediately sent out her trusted right hand man Seteth, with Flayn, his  _ sister _ , to corral the unruly goddess reborn back into the monastery’s pen. However, their greatest problem was this: Byleth did not want to be corralled, and the fact that she had goddess powers was only the cherry on top, because truly, Byleth on her own, armed only with her fists, teeth, and lack of regard for manners, was a force to be reckoned with. 

Seteth, being a gentleman, first and foremost, decided that the best method to persuade her to return was by being direct, and so he and Flayn knocked upon the door of her cabin, his wyvern Pebbles in tow. 

When Byleth opened the door and was greeted with his splendid visage, her first thought was, “shit, how did they find me?” and her second thought was “I’m going to bully him.” Byleth appreciated the fact that it was Seteth who came, not only because he was a very handsome dilf with Massive Tits that respected women, but because he was so uptight that bullying and flustering him was one of the funnest things possible.

“Hello, Professor,” he greeted her with that tight-lipped nod that he was so good at. “I am sure that you understand why I’m here.”

“I do,” she replied, giving him a nod of her own. “I’m not coming back.”

“But the people of Fódlan need you. Your students-”

“My goats need me,” she interrupted. “Have you met my goats?”

“I… No, I have not. But that is besides the point-”

“That’s very rude of you to come visit me without meeting my goats.”

“Brother, we should meet them!” Flayn chirped, utterly delighted at the prospect. “And the professor is correct! It would be very rude on our part.”

“We are not here to meet goats,” he protested before being summarily ignored. 

Byleth’s goats, six in number, were first and foremost stinky, but they were also loud, troublesome, and ill-mannered; she had named them after the goddess, Seiros, and the Four Saints, only partially out of a desire for some heretical digs at the church (the rest was informed by the fact that she was having a hard time thinking of six names on the fly, and she didn’t want to name them after her students, because he students did not smell anywhere near as bad as the goats did).

She introduced them one by one, much to Flayn’s delight and Seteth’s dismay. “Cethleann is utterly delightful!” Flayn crowed, even as the goat was nibbling on her hair, mistaking it for grass- or perhaps the goat hadn’t mistaken it for grass at all and was just being wilful. “Don’t you agree, brother?”

“Quite,” he sniffed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Professor, if you wish, your goats can return to the monastery with us, if that is the only impediment to your return.”

“Nope, me and my goats are staying right here,” Byleth said, plopping down in the middle of the group to give them some scritches. “I was never asked if I wanted to be the goddess. Why would I want to go back?”

“I… I understand your sentiments, but-”

“But what? I should just accept it? I don’t think so.”

With a heavy sigh, he folded his arms. “I hope you understand that Rhea has instructed me to not return unless you are accompanying me.”

“I have an extra room that you and Flayn can share.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m not coming back. I know that you wouldn’t want Flayn camping out in the woods somewhere, and you’re old, so your back can’t handle sleeping on the forest floor. You might as well be comfortable if you’re going to wait for me.”

Seteth spluttered, indignant at the mere suggestion that he was not only old, but also had a bad back, but he couldn’t deny that he would much rather Flayn stay safely and comfortably in the cabin. Finally, with a harrumph, he gathered himself enough to respond. “Is there nothing I can do to persuade you now?”

“Nothing,” she nodded, being licked by several goats as she did.

“Very well then,” he sighed. “We will accept your gracious offer.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Flayn cheered, clapping her hands. “This will be such fun!”

Seteth did not agree, but Byleth certainly did.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been nearly a year, and Flayn had Theories.

Their stay in the mountains had been quite lovely, overall; on weekends Flayn went with Byleth and her father- alright, the jig is up, it was obvious anyways- down to the market, where she made several friends and chatted with travelling merchants, and during the week she cared for the goats, helped around the house, and generally enjoyed herself. Seteth was enjoying himself too, surprisingly, despite his insistence that he wouldn’t; the rustic life was much less stressful than the endless mounds of paperwork at the monastery, and he seemed to appreciate that.

At night all three would sit by the fire, the goats surrounding them (despite their stench, Byleth insisted that they come inside at night), and Seteth would tell stories, both fable and fact, and sometimes something in between, familiar enough that she could recognize it as truth but embellished enough that another listener may not. It was during these calm evenings that Flayn began to develop her Theories, for she was quite an astute girl, and prided herself on her powers of observation. 

To be blunt, Seteth was smitten. Besotted. Twitterpated. Head over heels. And the object of his affections was none other than Byleth herself. 

To Flayn, this was highly exciting. She hadn’t seen him in such a state since her mother was alive, nor had she seen him gaze so fondly at someone since those happy times. The fact that her frigid father’s icy heart had suddenly been melted (and so quickly, too!) by a woman who thought it was highly amusing to let her goats chew on his hair was both hilarious and sweet. Living in the same house already made them feel like a family, and Flayn was fully in support of making that arrangement official.

Flayn also noticed in the coming months that Byleth seemed rather smitten as well, but she was harder to read, thanks to her relatively blank expression. Actions certainly spoke louder than words in her case, and oh, were there actions a plenty for Flayn to extrapolate from! Even when Byleth teased Seteth, it was always in a good-natured manner, with a twinkle in her wide eyes and smirk upon her lips. At first, Seteth was irritated, but as time passed, he grew _flustered_ instead, which was very, very interesting in Flayn’s opinion. Byleth took note of it too, it seemed, for she went out of her way to fluster him more. 

They worked well together, on top of that; in fact, they rarely worked alone, and even more importantly, because they worked in such close proximity, there were frequent opportunities for brushing hands together, bumping into each other, and the like. 

Of course, there was the small issue of Flayn’s Aunt Rhea waiting impatiently for them to return to the monastery, but other than that, Flayn saw no impediment to their relationship, and eagerly awaited for any confirmation of her celebrated Theories.

It was only on a brilliant spring day that Flayn received such a confirmation, and, to be honest, it was not in the way she suspected.

She had been searching for her father, wanting some Patented Seteth Advice that she would Probably Ignore about what book to read next. It was an ingenious little trick on her part, really- it gave him the satisfaction of feeling like he was included in her life, thus deterring him from meddling in other parts, like her friendships, that she was less keen on him being involved in. 

She knew that Byleth and Seteth were out by the barn with the goats, repairing a broken patch of wall that Pebbles had eaten after a spat with Macuil (the goat), but what she did not know before turning the corner was that they Most Certainly Were Not repairing the wall. 

Instead, Byleth had Seteth pinned against the (still unrepaired) wall, and a greater author would have described them as being lost in an impassioned embrace, their tongues battling for dominance and some internal goddess doing cartwheels (which in Byleth’s case would not be wholly inaccurate, although I cannot imagine Sothis being anything but distressed that Byleth chose her stuck up, repressed son to make out with when like. Indech is RIGHT THERE). However, I am not that greater author, and so I will describe it as it was: it kind of looked like they were trying to eat each other’s faces, that’s how into it they were.

Flayn let out a surprised “oh!” as her hands flew to her mouth, but before she could flee and let them Get Back To It, both of them whipped their heads around to see who had caught them and saw her. Byleth looked mildly inconvenienced, at the most, and waved cheerily to Flayn in greeting, but Seteth, red as a tomato, looked like he had never longed for the sweet release of death (or at the very least a large hole in the ground to swallow him up) as in that moment.

“Flayn!” Seteth said weakly, his voice more a wheeze of distress than anything.

“Ah, I did not mean to interrupt!” Flayn apologized, immediately turning heel to leave. “I saw nothing! Do not worry!” She darted around the corner, only pausing to lean her head back around and shout “Do enjoy yourselves!” at her mortified father and a rather smug Byleth before running back into the house. 

Flayn felt the same triumph that a Crest scholar might upon learning that their theory was correct, for indeed, her Theories were no longer Theories- they were indisputable fact.


	3. Chapter 3

Explaining the disastrous scene behind the barn to Flayn had certainly been the most difficult part for Seteth, especially given the fact that not only was she not embarrassed by it, she was also  _ delighted _ by it and even offered her congratulations. 

Explaining that he was in love with Byleth was the easy part, for it was a truth that he had long held in his heart and he had spent many a night preparing the announcement of his affections, both to Byleth and to his daughter. The confession to Byleth had not gone as planned, for it wasn’t meant to be during a trip to the barn to repair things, nor had he expected her to immediately seize him for a passionate kiss (for he had been envisioning something more along the lines of a kiss on the hand, and perhaps, if they were be daring, a genteel kiss on the cheek). 

Flayn finding them, needless to say, had not been in the plan either.

Still, it was a relief to have it all out in the open, and now only one issue remained: that of the growing stack of letters from Rhea wondering where the goddess incarnate was and asking if they could pretty please bring her back because it was very important that she return to the monastery, and there was nothing suspicious going on, heavens no, she just needed her to sit on a throne that certainly wouldn’t allow Sothis’s conscious to overtake her body, why would he even think that? Anyways they needed to return posthaste, and she would like to remind him again that it was INCREDIBLY rude to ignore her letters and/or only send one sentence replies- Fondly and impatiently, his dear sister Rhea. 

Rhea could wait, he decided, for he had something much more important to tell Byleth. 

The night after the barn incident, Seteth told a story that was entirely true, of Saints and of sorrow, of a man who lost his wife and a child who lost her mother, of a war that cost too much and a land that remembered too little. He waited patiently, as his tale unfolded, for the flicker of recognition in Byleth’s eyes, and when it came she crossed the room to sit near him and take his hand. Flayn soon followed, snuggling under her father’s arm and reaching up to dab at his eyes with her handkerchief when the tears came.

In the silence following, Flayn tucked her hair back behind her pointed ears, then did the same for her father. Byleth smiled, and then she laughed, truly laughed, and told him his ears were cute, making him flush right up to the pointed tips, and then she kissed him sweetly and softly.

The next day he penned a long letter to Rhea, informing her that they would not be returning to the monastery, and had to stop Byleth from including a nearly illegible and rather rude letter of her own (unbeknownst to him, she slipped it in anyways, distracting him with a kiss as she did).

The day after that he insisted upon repairing the barn, because really, it still needed to be done, and the job was finished largely without incident, but not entirely.


	4. Chapter 4

If one journeys to a certain mountain range in Fódlan now, locals will speak of a mountain that is simply Infested with goats. Like, there are so many goats on the mountain that it’s not even funny. The oldest and wisest among them will say that there is an older couple living up there, caring for the ever multiplying herd and waiting for their daughter to come visit them again, but the young ones will scoff and say that they’ve never seen any green haired traveler come through town, heading towards the mountain of goats. 

Some never will, for they will grow and leave for bigger and better things, but those who stay will one day meet an enthusiastic woman with green hair, her backpack laden with gifts for her parents, who she is ever so eager to see, and who are impatiently waiting for her return.

On nights after the traveler passes through, legends say that if one stands close enough to the mountain’s base, they can hear laughter drifting down from above, and if the night is especially clear, even the whispers of stories long told by the firesides of Fódlan.

However, those who are even wiser, regardless of age, know that the goat’s caretakers come down from the mountain every once in a while, and that one is the stern man who leaves manuscripts for children’s storybooks at the post office to send to publishers, and that the other is the wide-eyed woman who nudges him as they pass particularly reflective windows and says, “Look, Seteth, I’m a MILF now!”


End file.
